And The Rest Is
by Cinnamon
Summary: After a bad case, which puts Neal in the hospital, they both come to a new understanding. Peter/Neal


**And The Rest Is**

* * *

Peter's knee was facing a indictment if it didn't stop it's nervous jumping. He wished to reign in every part of his body. It felt like ice was burning the ends of his nerves.

Hospital rooms are torture rooms for the living, he surmised.

Two beds. Two people. One partner. One victim. Or both. His mind was not wholly reliable on this point.

He had initially feared to see Neal in a such a weakened state. Of course, he had been wrong.

Only Neal Caffrey could make looking hurt in a hospital bed look completely appealing without any hint of fragility. It was akin to watching a wounded panther dozing. He kept waiting for him to pounce.

Even in painful slumber a quirk to those full lips seemed to mock any attempts at pity. Peter could have swore he heard a "tsk" when he had pulled up the bed sheet to Neal's chin.

Peter gazed over at the other bed with regret.

A dozen spidery lines crawled up and down the young man's pale face and neck. They were so fine that Peter imagined he could gently pluck them from his flesh. And simply wipe away the damage. It was a sorrowful visage.

The work of a mad man.

It was the work of a certain of con man, who managed to break Peter broke out of his inner thoughts.

Neal's lips met his hand as tenderly and suddenly as he dropped it. Peter could not be sure if he had hallucinated it or not.

He was surprised to feel that he wished it was not some vision.

Neal's face opened up to him. Perhaps he had been sleep kissing? The familiar blue eyes were tired and beautiful. Peter welcomed them like the sky welcomes dawn. The massive bruise on his forehead aside, Neal seemed himself.

"Neal. How are you feeling?"

His words sounded so flat and formal. It betrayed every emotion in his bone.

"Lu...Luke?"

Neal coughed to clear his throat. Peter offered to call for water but Neal shook his head.

"The scars will heal. In time."

Neal and Peter both looked to the young man. Neal grimaced at his sleeping form.

"I had a hand in this."

"I understand but-"

"Peter. I'm not turning my back on this. I am going to own up to this mistake. My mistake."

Peter looked down for a moment and smiled to himself.

"What?" Neal asked.

Peter raised his head to look at him solemnly. "I wouldn't expect you do any less."

Neal didn't know quite how to answer that. Not with Peter gazing at him with that proud and adoring look he would catch like a bad cough sometimes.

Neal just didn't know what to do with it. And dear god, he wanted to do something with it.

That look lead to forbidden crevices in heart and mind. To a the secret that lay within him.

A secret that kept the dwindling embers of resentment burning toward Peter. And the pain that kept his heart safer still.

"I was trying to help the kid out. In the wrong way."

Peter wanted him to rest but Neal seemed to need these words purged from his system.

"I know, you did."

Neal shook his head. "But I just messed up. And you came after me per usual."

Peter shifted uncomfortably.

"Next time, don't come Peter. Just don't come."

He remembers shouting at him. Neal had been silent and indignant. The silent leash straining between them. That always present tension that he could taste on the tip of his tongue.

Peter adjusts the end of Neal's bed sheet before he meets the former con's eyes. Maybe it was a sort of masochism. This bittersweet joy that he takes from their tug and pull.

"I'll always come for you."

He raised his hand toward Neal, who seemed to flinch. That simple action caused another bitter pain. A slice into his heart.

"Don't."

Peter didn't remember much after that. He mumbled some more about the conclusion to the case. The bad guy properly put away. It was all very professional.

Neal didn't curl into a ball and sulk or anything. But he was steely eyed and quiet.

They watched Luke sleep and nurses come and go. The kid was going to be all right. Neither of them could fathom what way his future may turn. Neal hoped he would make the right choices that he himself failed to do in the past.

Peter knew that he would. He said that Neal had shown Luke the right way. But his inner voice insisted it was because Neal was one of a kind.

That there could only ever be one Neal.

They sat there together in silence for awhile until the nurse politely chased Peter away. He could not forget the fleeting looks shifting across Neal's face.

Stay.

Go.

Go...

He didn't want to go. But he did.

Neal realized he was being foolish the minute Peter left. It was amazing the clarity and longing that struck him as soon as the man left his side. Especially, when he had nothing to occupy his mind away from Peter in the hospital.

Hospital rooms are made for torture, he decided, before sleep utterly consumed him.

Peter didn't even realize that he was home until he felt El's arms encircled around him. Her head smushed into his shoulder. He wanted to kiss the top of her head ever so softly.

But somehow, that tender kiss seemed destined to be stayed. It was still waiting to fall on someone else's head.

Elizabeth raised her eyes to meet his distant gaze. She knew the delicates secrets of her man. They were unblossomed flowers within his heart that gently moved where distress tread.

She supposed any other woman would have poked and pried them open. But El was anything but ordinary. She let them sleep.

They made her love him more.

In her own way, she was content in the knowledge they would come alive on their own terms.

"No one is going to blame you, hon."

He managed a smile and lips met hers reassuringly. "I know. I'm not beating myself up. Neither is Neal. We did what we had to do."

"Neal...?"

"He'll be fine."

El smiled and kissed his cheek gently. She let him know that she would be waiting for him upstairs. Even though it would be a very, long wait.

Peter sat down at the kitchen table. A beer already out for him. Peter smiled. God bless you, El.

Sipping his beer in the darkness was soothing. Yet, it did not quiet his thoughts. That rebellious knee was acting up again. He lacked the energy to give it a few slaps.

In his mind in cruel technicolor, he saw knife cutting into Luke's face. He could hear the splashes of blood. He could see the pool of blood Neal's face laid in.

Peter closed his eyes and shuddered. Until that moment, he didn't know what it was like for his heard to explode then reassemble upon finding Neal's heartbeat.

It was during the long hours of contemplating those moments again that he realized something with clarity. And quietly, in his heart there was blossoming.

Eventually, Peter did come up to bed. El was waiting. She laid her head on his chest and listened to his heart. It was so big, his heart.

There would always be enough for her.

The morning came faster than either of them wished. Elizabeth had an early appointment but assured Peter that she would be stopping by the hospital as soon as she could to see Neal.

Peter almost didn't notice his cell was going off while he finished off his coffee. He picked it up.

Neal answered immediately to his relief.

"Luke's awake."

"Great! How's the kid doing?"

"Okay. Glad to be alive. Thanks to you."

"And you," Peter said, automatically.

"The jury's still out on that," Neal said, hesitantly.

"Well, I already heard the verdict. Not guilty."

"Yeah. Who else was part of this forgiving party?"

"Elizabeth. She's very convincing. "

"Of course, she is. Peter, about last night…"

"It's fine. Just go get some rest.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. And tonight when you were sitting beside me, I…"

"It's okay about Luke. I know you were trying to help."

"And the rest is…"

Something clutched in Peter's chest. He knew what road those words may travel. He hoped to go down it.

"It's there. Let's just let it be for now."

Neal smiled to himself. Some secrets are destined to inevitably burn away. No matter the pain, something good might rise from the ashes.

Peter felt a rush of happiness and looked forward to what was to come. He felt it clearly.

On his hand was a kiss waiting to be repaid.

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**A/N**: My first White Collar fic! What did you think? I know it's nothing special or new to the table. But I would greatly appreciate your comments. Thanks for reading!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own White Collar or it's characters. Unfortunately, I got conned out of it.


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